Paul Ryan on Europe

Compared to Ryan's budgets, Cameron's coalition looks positively profligate.

As a congressman, Paul Ryan hasn't turned his gaze overseas all that often. He is far too busy focusing on important domestic issues like changing the taxation on arrow shafts from a 12.5 per cent of sales to a 39¢ flat tax to spend time worrying about the Old World.

But he has made two notable, on-the-record, contributions to debates happening on this side of the pond.

The first was in 2009, when he co-authored a Wall Street Journal article about the perils of socialised medicine.

The piece, titled Beware of the Big-Government Tipping Point, was published in January 2009, the day before Barack Obama was sworn in as president, and is a strongly worded attack on the then-nascent idea of Obamacare.

In the piece, Ryan touches on the NHS, arguing that:

We need only look to Great Britain and elsewhere to see the effects of socialized health care on the broader economy. Once a large number of citizens get their health care from the state, it dramatically alters their attachment to government.

This line has been ramped up in the re-reporting of it, becoming a "savaging" in the Times, where Sam Coates suggested that Ryan had claimed "that free healthcare distorts the democratic process". The truth is that the pieces more mild, more wonkish, and even partially correct – although deeply cynical.

He is right,because it is obvious to anyone that the American attitude to government is clearly different to the British one. For all that some on the right of the Conservative party love to repeat Ronald Reagan's famous quote about Government being the problem, that view is only really held by the fringes of European society - as opposed to the US, where it is the mainstream opinion.

It's only partly right, though, because he's clearly overstating the effect healthcare has. Attachment to the state comes from more than just getting your medicine from The Man. It is experiencing a caring state full stop which changes how a nation sees the role of government.

And it's deeply cynical because he seems to be arguing that a government should stay deliberately bad – should stop doing good things, and only do things which will anger its citizens – because otherwise people will realise that big government isn't such a bad thing.

It's putting the cart before the horse. If Ryan thinks universal healthcare is bad, he should have the courage to let the voters decide whether they agree with him – not prevent them from getting healthcare because they might realise he's wrong.

Ryan's other moment touching on British issues came in 2011. He was given the opportunity to make the Republican response to Obama's State of the Union address (roughly analogous to the Queen's speech, in that it lays out the legislative agenda for the year ahead). He argued:

If we continue down our current path, we know what our future will be. Just take a look at what’s happening to Greece, Ireland, the United Kingdom and other nations in Europe. They didn’t act soon enough; and now their governments have been forced to impose painful austerity measures: large benefit cuts to seniors and huge tax increases on everybody.

Lumping together "Greece, Ireland and the United Kingdom" betrays a basic lack of comprehension of the extreme differences between the crises in those three countries.

For one thing, there is no way that America could ever (in the foreseeable future) face crises similar to those of Ireland and Greece. Simplifying matters enormously, Greece's problems were borne from corrupt governments systematically lying on national accounts to enter the Euro, running spiralling deficits once the cheap credit became available, and having no recourse to the currency markets when the truth came out.

Ireland, meanwhile, suffered a hangover from a privately financed housing boom which turned into a privately financed housing bust, a banking crisis which required a government bailout, and, again, the straightjacket imposed by the Euro combined with German intransigence aggravating the whole matter.

And if Ryan was seriously suggesting that following Obama's vision for America could take the country in the direction of the UK, he needed to take a look in a mirror.

Even in 2011, it was clear that the UK did not have any particular debt crisis, and that overzealous attempts to deal with the deficit were harming demand and compounding the error. Construction spending had fallen, confidence had been slammed and the VAT rise had just been introduced.

Of course, for all that Ryan looked economically illiterate comparing the three at the time –and he did – in hindsight, he looks even worse. The Conservatives, we now know, inherited recovery and turned it into recession, and they did that through targeted application of austerity. But compared to Paul Ryan's budgets, the Coalition looks positively profligate.

The VP pick has not got a perfect track record talking about things outside his expertise, then. I'd suggest he stick to areas he knows about, but it's becoming rapidly questionable whether there actually are any. Maybe he should just keep quiet and be a pretty face on the campaign trail.

 

Paul Ryan. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Why Philip Green's fall should bring down the honours system – but won't

Sir Shifty may fall in disgrace, but our ridiculous system will endure. No matter what's happening in the rest of politics.

Sir Philip Green’s Efficiency Review (2010) is his Das Kapital and it is still, happily, online. You can, if you wish, smirk at his recommendations to the government, which were solicited by David Cameron, I imagine, because when he stood next to Green he looked not like a 17th-century woodcut but like a tall, handsome semi-aristocrat.

“There is no motivation to save money or to treat cash ‘as your own’,” Green grumbles, before complaining, “There are inconsistent commercial skills across departments.” I am weeping with laughter at the whole report. But I’m not one of those BHS employees watching their pension ­vanish as the hideous cushions, throws and bedspreads pile up on the Green family yacht Lionheart. I instantly rename the yacht 14-Day Return Policy No More.

The days when Green could write efficiency reviews for people to ignore are gone. It is said that he could lose his knighthood, because that would be exciting and pointless. If so, I hope the ceremony features the formal rending of a garment from the BHS sale bin – perhaps a torn sock will be flung at his head? The Queen will not be happy, because de-knighting makes the ancient system of patronage look as ridiculous as it really is. Do intercessors between man and God make mistakes? Would they raise a man the Daily Mail now calls “Sir Shifty”? (I checked whether there was a Sir Shifty among the knights of the Round Table who flogged the Holy Grail to a passing tinker. There was not.)

Lord Melbourne advised Queen Victoria not to attempt to make her husband, Albert, a king, for if the people knew that they could make kings, they might unmake them. Green will discover this in his tiny way. But the elites should not hide their baubles. One fallen knight will not destroy the system (and I cannot think that Green will take £571m from his Lionheart cushion budget to save his knighthood by replenishing the BHS pension fund, because a knighthood is, in essence, just a tiny Bentley Continental that you wear over your nipple). One fallen knight should destroy the system but it won’t, because human conceit and docility are without end. Green will be shunned. Nothing will change.

One might have hoped that the Brexit vote would have alerted Cameron to the abyss between the electorate and the elected. (Even Alastair Campbell, chomping against Brexit, seemed to forget that he was as complicit in the alienation of voters as anyone else: government by sofa, teeth and war.) The response was glib, even for Cameron, a man so glib that I sometimes think he is a reflection in a pond. Brexit hit him like someone caught in a mild shower without an umbrella. He hummed at the lesson that history dealt him; he hummed as he left his page. It was the hum of the alpha Etonian caught out in a mistake, yes, but it was still a bloody hum.

His next act was to increase pay-offs to favoured courtiers against civil service advice and at public expense; then, it was reported, he nominated his spin doctor Craig Oliver and his former spin doctor Gabby Bertin for peerages, because the upper house needs more PRs. He has learned nothing. I wish him a relaxed retirement in which he will, apparently, write his four-page memoir, David Cameron: My Struggle (sub-subtitle: Eton Mess?). I hope he does not attempt to deny “the prosciutto affair”, because there is no need. It was not true. It was too pure a metaphor.

So the honours system, an essential part of our alienating politics, alongside dodgy donors, duck houses and George Galloway, endures in its worst form as conventional politics fails. It is a donkey sanctuary for political friends and Bruce Forsyth. I am not suggesting that everyone who has been honoured is dreadful – some lollipop ladies deserve to be patronised with an OBE (when there is no E any more), I am sure, and the lords, some of whom are excellent, are the functional opposition now – but the system can no longer be defended by the mirth potential of watching politicians ponder what light-entertainment celebrities might swing a marginal before being posthumously accused of rape. We must find something better before the house burns down. Perhaps a robust parliamentary democracy?

The problem is best expressed by the existence of a specialist consultancy called Awards Intelligence, which engages in “VIP brand-building” by soliciting awards. It sells “awards plans” from £795, which I could well imagine Philip Green perusing as he bobs about aboard Lionheart, were it not too late. The Awards Intelligence website tells us so much, though obliviously, about the narcissism of modern politics that I am tempted to reproduce it in full. But I will merely report that it asks:

"Did you know that you can join the House of Lords on a part-time basis as an Independent Crossbench Peer or a political peer affiliated to one of the main politial parties – even if you have ongoing work, family or community commitments!"

The message from Awards Intelligence, which boasts of a 50 per cent success rate, is clear: the legislature is part-time, it exists to “instil trust, add credibility and provide a platform for you to have your say” – and it can’t always spell “political”.

Sir Shifty and Awards Intelligence do not constitute the worst crisis in the history of honours, dreadful though they are. During the First World War the royal German cousins were stripped of their garters, so that British soldiers would not have to kill men of higher rank. But it is time for the Queen to stop pinning toys on nipples. They are part of a political system sweeping us, swiftly, towards the night.

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue